I was the youngest of five kids. I suppose I'm spoiled in some way. (I still don't have a paying job.) But it wasn't all comfort: older siblings have a tendency to decide what's best for you and ignore your own opinion on the matter. And they sometimes have subtle ways--or not so subtle--of pulling rank.
I remember the time my brother flashed his fist an inch from my face and said, "You flinched! That means I get to hit you!" (Odd how it seems funny in hindsight...)
I also wore some hand-me-downs. Seems to me that should be nothing to be ashamed of! If a piece of clothing hasn't been worn to rags, someone should wear it.
Back in the early '70s I watched some of The Brady Bunch. At the time, I had no idea what a camp classic it would become! My favourite character was Bobby the youngest son, because he was one of the youngest, and a boy like me. (Cindy was equally young, but she was a girl.) I remember one episode where Bobby was worshipping Jesse James, until he had this nightmare where the whole family were pioneers travelling on a train in the Wild West, and then Jesse James came on board and shot them all in the back. (He pointed a toy gun at them and kept repeating, "Bang!") For a kid like me, that was a bit disturbing.
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